


Hard to Find

by ClaraxBarton



Series: AU Alphabet [8]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Winter Break, and Bucky decides to go skate on the pond where he first learned to play hockey.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: AU Alphabet [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685266
Comments: 37
Kudos: 174





	Hard to Find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistyDirtyInfiniteRoots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDirtyInfiniteRoots/gifts).



> short - and hopefully sweet - today.
> 
> Now edited by the amazing Ro!!!

Bucky loved his family.

He did.

His mom was his hero, and he wasn’t afraid to say it. She had raised Bucky and his three younger sisters entirely on her own, after their father fucked off when Bucky was ten, and she had done a damn good job and she had a damn good  _ job _ as the head librarian of Monticello’s little library. She’d moved them out of the city when Bucky was twelve, and sure, the move from Brooklyn to a town in the Catskills had been… honestly shitty for teenaged Bucky. And, well, Monticello wasn’t exactly awesome. Small town, full of small-minded people. In winter, the snow was plentiful and deep, and it was freaking cold all the time. Even deep into the summer, Bucky had to wear sweaters sometimes. 

But, despite that, it was home. And Bucky’s mom loved her little rustic cabin and her garden and her ongoing war with deer and rabbits and bears. And Rachel and Rebecca had taken to Monticello a lot quicker and easier than Bucky and done well in elementary and then middle and now high school. 

So, it was fine. It was, occasionally, like in the summers when Bucky went to concerts at Bethel Woods with his friends or hiked miles of rivers or even in the winter skated on the frozen lakes - it was good. It was home.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t ready for winter break to end so he could get back to school. 

He was going into his last semester at Notre Dame, his degree in Russian studies so close at hand he could almost feel the diploma. 

With the exception of the Great Lakes Invitational hockey tournament at the end of December, Bucky had been stuck at home in Monticello for weeks, and still had another six days to go before he could make the drive back to Notre Dame.

So, like any idiot who couldn’t stand to watch another minute of whatever Kardashian crap was on the TV and just couldn’t stomach trying to masturbate to his favorite porn and risk getting caught by one of his kid sisters  _ again _ , Bucky packed up his skates, grabbed some snacks and water and a few pucks, his stick, and took off through the snow in the backyard through the woods and towards the small pond where he’d first learned to play hockey ten years earlier.

The little pond had seemed so big then, but now, it was small. Small and, every time Bucky had slipped away this break, empty.

Expecting more of the same, Bucky stopped short at the end of his half-hour hike at the sound of skates cutting through the ice.

Looking between thick-trunked trees and snow drifts, Bucky could see a purple-hooded figure moving fast and confident across the ice.

His heart gave an unwelcome little leap.

_ Clint _ .

Like Bucky, Clint Barton had been a Monticello transplant, though a few years ahead of Bucky.

He’d loaned Bucky his first pair of skates, laced them up for him, cleaned and bandaged Bucky’s first ice-scraped palms and elbows.

Given Bucky his first kiss.

High school had been rough, for the both of them, for different reasons - Bucky was nerdy and gay and loved hockey and Clint in equal measure and gave no fucks who knew it. Clint was athletic and charming and a troublemaker and had a shitty brother and a shittier father, and even Bucky never knew which of Clint’s bruises were from hockey and which from his family.

But they’d had each other, at least, and Bucky’s mother had more or less adopted Clint - inviting him over for meals as often as she could without Clint scoffing. And, even after she’d caught Bucky and Clint making out and shirtless during one of their ‘sleepovers’ when Bucky was sixteen, she let Clint stay the night a few times a month, adamant that Bucky leave the door to his room open but offering no other censure.

So, when they’d been seniors, thinking about the future, getting scouted by college hockey teams, it had seemed inevitable that they would end up together - how could they  _ not _ ? Didn’t they deserve to be happy?

But Bucky got offered a ride to Notre Dame and Clint got the same deal to Cornell and, well, that was that.

Neither had come home the break of their freshman year - too busy training during the hockey season - or their sophomore and junior years for the same reasons. Bucky had spent his summers abroad, and according to Rebecca, Clint had spent his summers working for the large animal vet clinic in town and- 

And all put together, Bucky hadn’t seen Clint since the summer after high school, since that last night they spent together, camping out near the Delaware River, watching the stars and getting high and making stupid promises to each other.

Bucky made his way down to the ice, breaking a few dead branches as he went, in case Clint was actually wearing his hearing aids.

He wasn’t - that or he was too in the zone to pay attention to the ruckus Bucky was making.

He was just skating, lazy, graceful loops around the ice that tugged at Bucky’s gut and made him wish… a lot of things.

It wasn’t until Bucky had his skates on and was gliding across the ice himself that Clint actually noticed him.

Clint skated to a halt, face pink in the cold, blond hair a disheveled mess under the hem of his beanie, and stared.

“Hey,” Bucky said and added in a wave. Stupid, stupid wave.

But Clint grinned and skated closer, stopping just a foot from Bucky, so close Bucky imagined it was actually warmer now.

“Hey,” Clint replied.

And up close - fuck, he looked good.

College had agreed with him. Training had agreed with him. Four years had agreed with him.

He was even more gorgeous than he’d been at eighteen, taller and broader, with a stubble-roughed chin and the same brilliant blue eyes Bucky had always loved.

For a few minutes, maybe a few hours, they just stood there and stared at each other.

And then Bucky shifted, aware that he was being weird, and Clint huffed a laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“So, uh…” they said at the same time.

Clint laughed again, and Bucky smiled to hear it, hating how much he had missed it.

“I missed you,” they tried again, still speaking over each other.

But Clint looked even happier, and well, that was all Bucky had ever really wanted anyway.

-o-

  
  



End file.
